The King is Bad
by Sincorah
Summary: Or, how all bards were banned from Erebor after a disastrous attempt at humor before the newly-crowned King Thorin.


Thorin, rightful King Under the Mountain, placed a finger against his temple in a vain attempt to stave off his pounding headache. Well enough that dwarven heads were said to be made of stone, his felt as though it was being beaten upon by the finest dwarven miners in all of Middle Earth. After a day full of council meetings, where all the council members seemed to be in a competition to see who could best live up to the legendary stubbornness of dwarves, the king was about ready to bash his own head in upon the nearest wall and save himself the trouble.

Even now, sitting upright upon his mighty throne and looking every inch a king, as he should, he wondered if he was yet too young for retirement, and would not Fíli make an excellent king in his own right? Thorin was about to wave off the rest of the petitioners for the day, and call it a night, when a strangely dressed dwarrow stepped forward before the throne, flanked by two others carrying what appeared to be a musical instrument similar to what Bofur possessed.

The dwarf in front bowed low, his odd hat jingling with the small bells sewn onto the tips. His tunic had long yellow sleeves, but the vest was red and yellow checkered, and combined with a similar colored hat, it made for a ridiculous sight. The two who stood slightly behind him were dressed more normal, in brown tunics and leggings, and simple iron helms. The strangely dressed dwarf took the instrument from his comrades, and spoke.

"Hail! King Under the Mountain! My comrades and I have traveled far and wide, seeking stories and legends of heroes who have done great deeds. When we heard news of the fell dragon's attack upon Erebor, we were greatly grieved, for who could have supposed that it could ever be retaken? Now when word reached us that you had retaken the city, we were overjoyed, and wrote a song in honor of the attack and subsequent reactions. Have we your permission to sing it for you?"

Thorin would later realize that he had rather asked for this, and could hold only himself to blame, but at the time, he had no idea what he was giving in to, and nodded graciously. The ridiculously garbed dwarf smiled widely at that, and then bowed once again before playing a note upon his clarinet to sing in key. Then he began to sing, in a deep yet strangely irritating voice.

Oh, hear me king, for I must sing,  
How you are the greatest at everything,  
Like letting a dragon burn down our city,  
A horrible sight that wasn't pretty,  
'Twas all your fault and 'tis a pity.

You were bad, you are to blame,  
Now hang your kingly head in shame,  
La, La. La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La.

Until that point, the two dwarves who had followed their leader had remained quiet, although they were smirking, seemingly unaware of the increasingly enraged countenance of the king. Then they began to dance, and sing as well.

The king is bad, the king's to blame,  
He hangs his kingly head in shame,  
La, La. La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La, La!

They finished with a flourish, all three turning to bow in unison at Thorin, who finally, finally lost all of his carefully maintained control. He shot to his feet, startling the bards, who stared at him in surprise. Literally trembling in rage (though he would, of course, deny it to his dying breath), the king shouted, "Get out! Leave my kingdom and never return, on pain of death! If you have no compassion for those who lost their lives, their families, and their homes in the attack, then you have no place among us!"

Suffice it to say, the would-be singers of legends departed Erebor rather quickly, never to return. In a moment of fury, Thorin wrote out a proclamation that all bards were to be heretofore banned from Erebor, and that any who attempted to sing of the Line of Durin would be dealt with by him, personally. (Balin later convinced him to repeal this law, though it took the wise, white-haired advisor well over five years to do so.) And if, upon occasion, a familiar tune could be heard hummed in the halls of the great dwarven city, well, none were so foolish as to mention it to their king.

The end.

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 **Thanks for taking the time to read this! I will attempt to return to my other works soon, I'm just lacking motivation right now, and felt like writing something light. The song is from the Spongebob Squarepants episode Dunces and Dragons, sung by Squidly (Medieval Squidward) Hope you enjoyed!**


End file.
